Copy Woes
by Kyra Rivers
Summary: Terazuma was not having a good day, and having to fix a broken copy machine was not helping.


_**Title:** Copy Woes_

_**Summary:** Terazuma was not having a good day, and having to fix a broken copy machine was not helping._

_**Notes:** Written as a response to the challenge "One of the more cranky Shinigami has to call tech support." And yay, Terazuma, I love Terazuma. He's so fun. And this story was inspired by my own experiences with an awful, horrid copy machine who HATED ME. Blasted machinery. Annnyway, I hope you enjoy this story. (And for the record: I still hate you, Fanfiction dot net. Just on principle. FYI.)_

_**Warnings:** Swearing, possessed copy machines, Tatsumi being creepy, Wakaba's cookies, and blood. And ReallyReallyIrritated!Terazuma._

_**Disclaimer:** Yami no Matsuei is Matsushita-sensei's, the possessed copy machine is WolfPilot06's, and I'm pretty sure Fate belongs to itself. But all that really matters is that you shouldn't sue cos I am poor and will cry. And you don't want to see me cry. I get all blotchy and sniffly and it's just not a pretty picture._

* * *

**Copy Woes**

Terazuma was not having a good day.

The copier was not working and Terazuma was fairly sure Fate was conspiring against him.

Oh, and it wasn't as if the copy machine had merely flopped over, dead, as machines were known to do. He could handle that. A dead copy machine -- and any jokes regarding this being Meifu, and therefore the Land of the Dead, would be met with a surly glare -- meant that Enmacho would just have to get a _new_ copy machine. Simple.

However, that was not the case. Rather, the copy machine would work for some copies -- usually about five or so -- before jamming in about four different places. Terazuma had gotten so adept at opening the beast machine up and removing paper that he could probably write a manual on how to _build_ a copy machine. Though apparently, not one on how to make it stop jamming up.

Terazuma glowered at the offensive machine, willing it silently to _work_, dammit, before he stopped caring and willed his Shinigami into existence out of sheer spite.

Sighing, Terazuma picked up the packet of papers -- an information packet sent out to all of the workers in Meifu, informing them of some adjustments and delays in the reincarnation process -- and placed it into the slot. Setting the copy number to 10, Terazuma pressed "Start" and leaned against the wall, watching as the machine took in the papers.

One copy finished. Two. Three.

Terazuma was just starting to think that maybe the copy machine had righted itself under the force of his righteous anger when it happened. The machine paused in its operations, seemed to give a disgusted shudder, and jammed, beeping three times to alert Terazuma to its unfortunate delay.

For the love of Enma, Terazuma _hated_ this job.

He stormed irritably off to Tatsumi's office after removing the jammed paper and giving the machine a solid kick for his troubles. The secretary was bent over a pile of invoices, typing them away into the computer and jotting on a little notepad beside his desk. He didn't look up when Terazuma knocked on the open door, but merely said, "Come in, Terazuma-san."

For the record: Tatsumi was creepy, and Terazuma had learned to fear shadows.

Terazuma was disconcerted, but pushed it aside and began gruffly, "The copy machine isn't working again."

"Mm," Tatsumi said, finally setting down his pen and looking up at Terazuma. "Is it jamming up?"

"Yeah."

"Call a repair service," Tatsumi advised. He gestured to the side, "The number is on that list by my phone."

Terazuma bristled at the concept of calling a repair service, asking, "Isn't there just a manual or something?"

Tatsumi's eyes narrowed and suddenly attained that dangerous glint which always made Terazuma edgy. After a brief pause, seemingly for no other reason than to unnerve Terazuma, Tatsumi said, "While I'm sure you could locate a repair manual somewhere in this facility, possibly shoved in the back of a storage cabinet and covered in dust, I do not approve of you wasting an entire day learning how to fix a copy machine that a service could fix in ten minutes. If you would like, I could take time out of my already busy schedule to call for you -- this afternoon, I'm processing paychecks, but if I skipped over yours, I'm sure I'd have enough time."

Terazuma stared in stunned silence.

Tatsumi instructed, "Call a repair service, Terazuma-san."

"Yes, sir," slipped out of Terazuma's traitorous mouth before he could help it, and then he had to turn away as quickly as possible so Tatsumi wouldn't see him flush. As he walked back down the hallway, Terazuma had to stop himself from checking to make sure Tatsumi wasn't watching him disapprovingly or something. _Damn_, that secretary was fucking scary. Power-tripping, shadow-using, anal retentive freak.

And no, Terazuma did not care how hypocritical it was for him to be calling anyone else a freak. At least his Shikigami was noticeable, which shadows most certainly were not.

Terazuma seethed as he stopped by the copier, which sat peacefully despite its refusal to actually make copies. Little bastard was probably smirking at him in whatever way copy machines did that. He sighed, irritably, and came to the not-so-startling conclusion that life -- well, death -- was shit. Complete and utter shit.

"Ah, Hajime-chan!"

Terazuma looked up, blinking as Wakaba walked up, a stack of file folders in her arms.

"How are those copies coming, Hajime-chan?" Wakaba asked, glancing at the copy machine. Her curly hair bounced gently on her shoulders as her head turned, catching on the light. She frowned, her lower lip pouting out slightly, and said, "Isn't it working?"

"No," he reported grumpily, deliberately looking away from his partner before he stared for too long. "I'm going to have to call a repair service." Fucking _Tatsumi_ and his fucking shadows. Not that Terazuma was bitter or anything.

"That's awful," Wakaba bemoaned, properly sympathetic for his plight. "I know you hate technical calls."

"Yeah," he agreed.

"I know," Wakaba said, eyes lighting up. "I'll make cookies over lunch break, okay? Tsuzuki-kun and I were going to make cookies after work today, but I'm sure he'll understand if I make some over lunch. I have batter made up because Tsuzuki-kun likes to eat it raw, but he'll just have to go without until tonight. Does that sound good?"

Cookies _and_ deny Tsuzuki treats? And Wakaba had to _ask_?

"Sure, that sounds good," Terazuma replied, gracing Wakaba with one of his rare smiles. She was generally the only person who got to see them anyway, and if her previous statement was any indication, it wasn't exactly hard to see why.

"Great!" Wakaba said. "We can make them together at lunch, okay? I'd stay and help with the copy machine, but I really have to file these reports -- we've had too many cases lately, ne?"

"Mm," Terazuma said, nodding.

"Well, bye! See you at lunch."

"Bye."

With that, Wakaba walked away down the hallway, leaving Terazuma alone with the stupid copy machine. But he figured that maybe life wasn't complete and utter shit. More like a shit-doughnut with shit filling and little Wakaba-flavored sprinkles on top.

Somehow possessing the knowledge the Terazuma was in a better mood, the copy machine shuddered.

Terazuma gave it a sharp look. "I didn't even touch you."

The machine beeped twice, as if to remind him that he was suppose to be calling a repair service. Terazuma glared some more. It whirred irritably. Terazuma glowered. A tiny middle-aged Shinigami walked by the stand-off, gave both Terazuma and the copy machine a confused look, and moved on. The glaring continued. The beeping continued. It was a death match.

"Um, Terazuma?"

Terazuma immediately snapped away from the copy machine, recognizing that horrible, infuriating voice anywhere. "_You_," he snarled.

Tsuzuki gave him a strange look. "Why are you ogling the copy machine?"

"Go away, idiot."

Tsuzuki rolled his eyes and snatched up a packet of paper from the table beside the copy machine. "I would love to fight with you," Tsuzuki said, "but Hisoka said he'd eat lunch with me today and I bet he'll get annoyed if I murdered you horribly and destroyed the building."

"Like you could, you lazy loser," Terazuma snapped, wanting nothing more than to wipe the smirk off of Tsuzuki's face. It only made his day worse to know that Tsuzuki, his Most Hated Enemy, was having a pleasant day while Terazuma had to face the blasted copy machine. Even Tsuzuki's partner/love interest/girly-boy-person was tolerating him, and usually Terazuma could count on the irritable Shinigami to snap at Tsuzuki and make his day worse.

"I'm not fighting you," Tsuzuki said in a singsong voice, turning away -- with some difficultly, Terazuma was pleased to note -- and walking back down the hallway. "Have fun fighting the copy machine, freak; I hear it's possessed!"

Terazuma seethed, but before he could snap out a biting retort (which would probably have crushed Tsuzuki's resolve of peace, as it involved him and his love interest Kurosaki in rather sexual conditions), Tsuzuki turned down a hallway and vanished from Terazuma's viewpoint. Terazuma snarled but gave up, which was probably a good thing; he was still paying off the debts from the library incident, after all.

The copier beeped, clearly outraged by the lack of attention being paid to its most irritating self. Terazuma snarled, nerves fraying, and kicked it solidly through the paper loader.

Big mistake.

"BEEP BEEP BEEP!"

"Ah -- what the -- SHIT --!"

"BEEP WHIRRRRR!"

"FUCK!"

* * *

"Hello, this is Meifu Computer Services, how may we help you?" 

"Can you fix a copier?"

"Well, certainly, sir! What kind of copier do you have?"

"A _broken_ one."

"Ahaha. No, sir, I meant what style is it? There are many different kinds of copiers, you know."

"I don't _know_ what kind of copier it is. Aren't you guys supposed to know how to fix _all_ kinds of copiers?"

"We need to know for our records, sir--"

"Just SEND someone and _they_ can figure out what kind of fucking copier it is."

"Sir, please don't use that kind of language--"

"I have a _copy machine_ EATING MY LEG. I'll swear if I FUCKING WANT TO!"

"Sir, you don't need to -- eating your _leg_!"

"Yes, eating my goddamned leg, and it's teeth are really fucking sharp!"

"...uh..."

"Really sharp! I'm bleeding!"

"...sir, I think you need to call an exorcist, not a repair service."

"What? Why!"

"Copy machines aren't supposed to have teeth, sir. Or attack people, for that matter."

"But -- didn't you say you could fix the copy machine?"

"We can't fix possessed copy machines, sir."

"Well, what am _I_ supposed to do!"

"...I'm... not sure, sir."

"COME FIX THE COPY MACHINE!"

"We really can't help you. Goodbye, sir."

"No, wait--!"

Click.

"Hey!"

"Fucking -- _dammit_!"

"BEEP BEEP BEEP!"

"FUCK YOU!"

* * *

It took about ten minutes for Terazuma to remove himself from the demon copy machine, and only then it was because he tempted the beast with toner. Once released, of course, Terazuma made a mad dash down the hallway, narrowly avoiding getting snatched up again by the teeth-that-the-copy-machine-was-not-supposed-to-have. Loud angry beeping followed him as he dove into the nearest office, gasping and bleeding from his right leg. 

Kurosaki was sitting at his desk -- Tsuzuki, thankfully and unsurprisingly, was nowhere to be be found -- and looked up when Terazuma abruptly entered the room.

"Ah -- hello, Terazuma-san," Kurosaki greeted. Terazuma didn't turn to look at him, too busy leaning against the wall and thanking Enma that he had escaped the clutches of that vile contraption.

Kurosaki tried again. "Terazuma-san? What's wrong?"

"Copy machine," Terazuma managed, glancing out the window to make sure the machine had not somehow followed him. Fortunately, it seemed that despite being possessed, the copier still needed to be plugged in. Oh, well. Small miracles.

"Oh, yeah, I heard Watari-san brought it to life," Kurosaki said, as if that explained everything, and went back to his paperwork. Terazuma stared at him, surprised.

"Brought it to _life_!" Terazuma snapped, trying to quell his inner urge to destroy the man who had enabled the copier to _bite him_.

"Mm," Kurosaki answered, "it's his power, I think. Or something like that. I'm not sure."

Terazuma seethed mutely, fingers twitching in the effort to keep them from fisting. So not only did he have to fix the copy machine, he had to fix a _possessed_ copy machine that Watari had somehow brought to life. Not even eating cookies with Wakaba was making this day better. He didn't even _care_ if the pamphlets got sent out, even! Why should a Shinigami give a flying fuck about the reincarnation system?

And now he would have to call the repair service back, just so they could give him the number to the damned exorcist, but he _had_ to because Tatsumi was too busy--

Wait.

"Kurosaki-kun!" Terazuma said, stumbling upon a brilliant idea.

"Yeah?" Kurosaki asked.

"You're my junior in this office, aren't you?"

Kurosaki's eyebrow twitched and his gaze suddenly grew colder, but he replied, "Yes. I am."

"I'm very busy, so um, as your senior officer, you -- er -- need to call the repair service to fix the copy machine," Terazuma said, though his authoritative tone faltered a bit under Kurosaki's icy glare.

For a few moments, all was eerily silent in the office as both Shinigami maintained their glares.

"Or," Kurosaki said, expression not changing, "you could just use the copy machine downstairs, and I can call Watari-san to come calm down his pet."

Terazuma gaped. "There's a copy machine downstairs?"

"Yes, _senior officer_, there is."

A few more moments of silence, this time distinctly awkward.

"Um--"

"Just go."

"Right."


End file.
